Mitchell ran a hand through his graying hair. “I trust his ambition,” he said. “Working with him… it’s just a matter of necessity.”
There was my opening. I took a breath. “Speaking of that,” I said, “I’d like to use one of my questions now. Why is it so important that he win this contest?”
Mitchell made a noise that was halfway between a snort and a chuckle. “Your bargain was with Dietrich, not me. He can tell you what he will.”
“He’s not going to talk to me! He can’t even look at me without getting annoyed.” I left out the detail that I couldn’t even look at him without having heart palpitations.
“He’ll answer. He just thinks you’re a massive inconvenience,” said Thomas casually. “Guarding an untrained mortal through Alfheim isn’t anyone’s idea of a picnic.”
Massive inconvenience. “Thanks,” I muttered, instead of shouting Who’s fault is it that I’m here, again? like I wanted to.
“Just be on guard,” said Mitchell, forestalling any further comments. “I hope to make it through the Easain path without incident.” With that, he turned, motioning for us to follow. We did, moving at a fast clip to catch up to Dietrich and Isana. I grumbled something under my breath. I couldn’t understand this group. Why would anyone travel through a land of mythological monsters with someone they thought might turn on them?
“Hey,” I said, moving along quickly. “What was it the puca said? When it asked you if you were an enforcer of… a contract, or something?”
“The Pact,” said Thomas. “It’s a deal between humanity and the fae, I guess you could say.”
“Up until about two hundred and fifty years ago, the lives of fae and mortals were far more entwined,” said Mitchell. “But as human technology began to progress, and as human populations grew exponentially, conflicts between the two grew bloodier, uglier. To make a long and complicated story much shorter, the great fae leaders came together with humans who understood their interests—sorcerers. A plan was developed to separate mortals from fae.”
“Separate them? How?”
“The worldlines,” said Thomas. “Before they were established, the worlds tended to sort of…” he made a waving gesture, “…bleed into one another. That’s why you’d hear stories about mortals stumbling into fae territory, and so many superstitions about how to placate fae that came to our world. It was easy to move between the worlds, so easy you could do it accidentally if you weren’t careful.” I thought of the story of the Erlking again, of the father riding through the woods and encountering the fae monster that killed his son. I shivered. Suddenly the beautiful landscape we were moving through took on a sinister cast. So easy to meet fae that you could do it by accident... it sounded like a terrifying world to live in.
“The establishment of the worldlines is one of the greatest feats of magic ever accomplished,” said Mitchell. “It required a massive amount of strength, taxing even the Greater Fae to their limits. Titania was instrumental in bringing it to pass, as were Maeve, and… others.” Maeve. Previous queen of the Unseelie. Aerenia’s predecessor. Mitchell sighed. “It was the last time that true cooperation occurred between the Courts, and between fae and mortality as a whole.”
“There’s been some cooperation,” countered Thomas.
“Bargains,” said Mitchell. “Instances where short-term, temporary agreements were reached to address problems, frequently creating even more along the way.” He shook his head. “There is a reason you’ve been cautioned so strongly against dealing with them directly, Thomas.”
“I know a thing or two about how fae can twist bargains,” said Thomas quietly. “I’m not ever going to forget, even if you...” He glanced at me and fell silent.
“I know. This is important, Thomas,” said Mitchell, also quiet. “I wouldn’t ask it of you otherwise.”
I wanted to ask for clarification, but it was clear they were being vague purely for my sake. I figured that the less aware they were of my presence, the more they’d let slip, so I kept my mouth shut. The conversation appeared to be over, unfortunately—neither of them said anything else, and within a few minutes we had caught up to Dietrich and Isana.
We continued on our journey, and meanwhile, my brain jumped between two important tasks. First, I was rapidly reviewing every fae creature that Mitchell had drilled me on; after the dullahan, it seemed far more urgent. Second, I was trying to decide how to find out what my part in all this was. I reminded myself that despite the fact that Mitchell was being more informative than before, the fact that he would not answer the most important questions made it pretty clear that whatever I was doing here, I was not likely to be happy about it. The simple fact, however, was that I just didn’t know enough about this world to even hazard a guess as to why they’d drag a ‘massive inconvenience’ like me along.
Dietrich and Mitchell kept us moving at a punishing pace until nearly dusk, traveling along a river that flowed from the lake we’d passed earlier. When we finally stopped, I was nearly ready to drop from exhaustion.
“All right?” Thomas asked me as I stumbled to sit on a grassy knoll. The setting sun reflected orange off the nearby river, which was rushing loudly along. “You’ve been quiet.”
I pulled my shoes and socks off, checking my feet for blisters. None yet, but there were several raw patches of skin that felt like they’d be a problem if I kept up this level of abuse. “I’ve had a lot to think about.”
“Like what?”
I rolled my eyes internally. He could be really obtuse. “Like, I don’t know, reorganizing my entire worldview? It’s a bit of a shock when one day you’re just trying to figure out how to pay for college and the next you’re being threatened by the Headless Horseman.”
He laughed as he sat down next to me. “I could see that. You’re in college?”
I sighed. I’d been trying to put him off, not open a new subject of conversation. At the same time, though, maybe getting my mind off of fae for a few minutes wouldn’t be a bad thing. “Not yet. I was going to, if I could figure out how to pay for it,” I said, suddenly feeling depressed. Trying to scrape together a college fund had been my sole focus for months, but it had been driven entirely out of my head by recent events. Now, reminded of it, I wondered if I was even going to make it home alive, let alone carry on with my plans for the future. It had been such a simple plan. Leave home, earn money for school, then study something I loved. I twisted the hem of my shirt, turning my head to take in the view of the fae world around me. A simple plan, but things had gone just a little bit wrong. “I was waiting to hear back about a few cello scholarships, but now…”
“Cello? You’re a musician?” asked Thomas, frowning.
“You could say that,” I said, staring out over the water. A flock of swans was coming in for a landing. They hit the water, sending up a fine spray. I sighed. “I was hoping to study musical performance. My mother thought it was stupid, but…” I trailed off. Thomas’ brow was furrowed, and he glanced quickly over toward the others, still frowning. Mitchell was discussing something with Dietrich, while Isana was standing at the edge of the river, gazing over the expanse of water. “What?” I asked him.
“Hmm?” He looked back at me, then away. “Nothing.”
“What?” I asked again, more insistent this time. He hesitated.
“It’s just… there’s an old tradition among the fae. It’s nothing, though—Mitchell wouldn’t…” He shook his head.
“Wouldn’t what?” I pressed.
“Look, it’s really nothing,” he said. “Just a stupid thought I had. It doesn’t even make sense. You did really well with the puca, by the way,” he said. “It’s not just anyone who can beat a fae creature at a riddle game.”
I sent him a funny look. “Thanks.” It was a terribly awkward (not to mention transparent) attempt at changing the subject, but I obviously wasn’t going to get anything more about whatever was bothering him, so I let it slide. I’d figure out a way to weasel it out of him l
ater. I scoffed internally at my own optimism. Sure. Right after I figured out how to broach the subject with Dietrich of getting my questions answered. I pulled my knees up to my chest. “I didn’t actually beat it, though,” I said. “It disappeared midway through.”
“Forfeiture. You beat it.” He paused. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it showed up again, though. Fae like that can be kind of obsessive. If it can’t figure out the riddle itself, it may try to track us down for the answer.”
“I wouldn’t mind that. The puca wasn’t so bad,” I said. “That dullahan, though...”
“I was wondering about that,” he said, tilting his head. “Didn’t you work in a coroner’s office? I wouldn’t have expected it to bother you that much.”
“Yeah, well, dead things are fine when they stay dead,” I said, shuddering. How long had he been doing this, that he couldn’t appreciate what was to me a gaping distinction? I was never going to be able to scrub the image of the rotting coach driver from my brain. “Besides, I was just in administration.”
“I’ve always thought that sounded miserable,” said Thomas thoughtfully. “Pushing papers, trapped behind a desk…”
I snorted.
“What?”
“It’s just… you think my job was bad, when yours involves dealing with things like the dullahan on a daily basis.” I paused. “Of course, I had Dr. Spear…”
He grinned. “Daily is a bit of an exaggeration. Still, I’m a bit more accustomed to that sort of thing than you are,” he said. “I met my first fae when I was eleven.”
“Mitchell brought you here when you were eleven?” I asked, aghast. There was something seriously wrong with these people. “Is he crazy, or just sadistic?”
Thomas’ smile faded. “I didn’t know Mitchell then. It was on earth—the mortal portion of it, anyway. Even with the worldlines, some fae still make the crossing.”
“What happened?” I asked, curious. “You ran into a stray leprechaun, or what?”
He gave a hollow laugh. “Not quite. Look, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Oh—okay,” I said, taken aback, but then I wondered why I was surprised. It wasn’t as if we were friends, or as if I weren’t already accustomed to everyone here withholding information. There was an awkward silence, broken when he suddenly spoke again.
“It was a leanansidhe,” he said.
“Lananshee?” I repeated. (Yes, I know that looks nothing like how it’s spelled. Irish phonetics, remember?)
“Yes.” I frowned; I couldn’t remember Mitchell mentioning that one. “My mother was a poet, you see,” he continued. “Leanansidhe… they seek out people like that—painters, sculptors, writers.” I remained quiet. I hadn’t missed that he’d referred to his mother in the past tense. “They lend inspiration and creativity to their victim, becoming like a muse to them… my mother’s poetry was always brilliant, but under the leanansidhe’s influence… critics called it transcendent.” He smiled briefly, but it was a twisted, bitter expression. “That was before things went bad, like they always do when you bargain with fae. The leanansidhe drove her mad. I was young, I didn’t understand what was happening… just that my mother was always talking to someone I couldn’t see, and that sometimes she’d get so caught up in her work that she wouldn’t even eat unless I begged her to. Then it was as if she stopped hearing me at all. She was just feverishly scribbling. I remember the pen ran out of ink but she kept going, just scratching at the paper like she hadn’t even noticed. I couldn’t reach her. One morning she was just… gone. Died at her desk. She was still holding the pen.” He fell silent, staring straight ahead with a fixed expression. “I don’t think she even knew me, near the end.”
I exhaled slowly. What could you possibly say to a story like that? “I’m sorry,” I said after a long moment. “That’s… that’s really awful.”
“Yeah…” He was silent for a moment, then shrugged as if trying to dislodge the emotions that the conversation had stirred up. “Mitchell’s people found me soon after that, pulled me out of foster care to start an apprenticeship. At first I didn’t want anything to do with fae, or magic, and I didn’t want to believe them when they explained what had really happened to my mother. But after a while, when I started to understand what it is that sorcerers do, enforcing the Pact, ensuring that the fae don’t harm mortals…” He folded his arms. “I wanted to help. If there was a way I could stop what happened to my mother happening to anyone else, I wanted to help.” He looked over at me suddenly. “I don’t know why I told you all that. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. I didn’t look at him. So he’d dedicated his life to protecting mortals from fae, and yet it was okay to drag someone like me, completely unprepared, into a nest of them? “You’re just going to erase my memory before you send me home anyway, right?” I asked. “So it’s pretty safe to tell me whatever you want, I guess.”
“I wouldn’t do that unless you wanted it,” said Thomas quickly. “I mean… you don’t have to forget everything. There’s no rule mandating it, or anything like that.”
“Oh. My decision.” I still wasn’t looking at him. “Been a while since I’ve heard that.”
There was a silence, and then Thomas exhaled softly. “I’m sorry,” he said after a long moment. “For… helping put you through all this. This isn’t a world you should even have to know exists, and… anyway, sorry.”
I kept still for a second. Was than an actual apology? Somehow, even though he hadn’t said anything about rectifying the situation, it made me feel quite a bit warmer toward him. I sighed. “I just wish I knew why I was here.”
“Me too, actually,” he said. I looked at him, surprised. He was gazing off to the distance, but there was a dissatisfied cast to his expression. He picked at the grass absently. “We’ve deputized non-sorcerers before, in emergencies, but that’s not what happened to you. I mean, I’m used to working blind under Mitchell—he’s important enough in our field that he takes secret assignments pretty regularly—but I don’t understand what could possibly justify…” He sighed, shaking his head.
“Brainwashing and kidnapping?” I supplied helpfully.
“That’s kind of a harsh way to put—” He broke off when I turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. Brainwashing and kidnapping.” He frowned. “It’s not as if there aren’t more sorcerers working for the Septagonal, if we needed another person.”
“Yeah… so instead of having extra help, you get to babysit me,” I said with a twisted little half-smile.
He made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing much better than most people would in your shoes.” I didn’t answer. “You are,” he said. “Most people would have panicked or completely shut down by now. You haven’t.”
No, I’d just vomited everything I’d eaten for the last three days at the sight of my first—no, second—fae creature. I sighed. This really would be easier if someone would just tell me why I was here. “So… you really don’t know why it’s so important that Dietrich win this contest we’re heading towards?”
“Not a clue,” said Thomas. “His whole family has a terrible reputation. I mean, he has this sister who—never mind, it’s a long story. I’d never heard any stories about Dietrich specifically, but still, I was… well, I was shocked when Mitchell told me we’d be working with him. I wasn’t too happy about Isana, either.”
“But you’re still going along with it.”
“If Mitchell says it’s important, it is,” he said simply. I made a frustrated noise, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Oddly, at that moment, I felt a little envious; I’d never had anyone in my life that I would trust like that.
“I’m going to help Mitchell set the wards,” said Thomas after a moment. “So we can sleep without anyone having to stay up all night keeping watch.” With that, he left me to go to Mitchell, who was just turning away from Dietrich, looking worried. He talked with Thomas for a moment, then be
gan pacing the perimeter of our campsite, murmuring to himself. Thomas stood rigid while Mitchell worked. I remembered what he’d said about being a Shadow—how painful channeling magical energy could be—and I felt a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach, watching him. Don’t be stupid, I told myself sharply. I turned resolutely away.
Dinner was a quiet affair; I stayed close to Thomas and Mitchell while we ate some sad-looking chicken sandwiches that Thomas told me he had enchanted to prevent them from going bad. It seemed to have worked, but had done nothing for the bland taste. Still, I wasn’t yet comfortable enough with the whole magic thing to ask if there was any way to conjure up some ketchup. Isana and Dietrich both ate alone, situating themselves at opposite ends of the campsite, neither seeming interested in seeking out the other’s company.
“Hey,” I said in a low tone to Thomas and Mitchell. “Are you still worried about those two?”
They glanced at each other. “They have given me no reason to worry,” Mitchell said after a moment. “But what I said earlier still stands.” He was looking in Isana’s direction when he said it.
“I don’t understand what your problem with her is,” I said, keeping my voice low. “She hasn’t done anything except what Dietrich’s told her to this whole time.”
“She has what you might call divided loyalties,” said Mitchell. I wanted to ask if he ever intended to elaborate on the subject, or if he was just going to insist on making vaguely ominous comments like that, but I kept quiet. I looked over at Isana. She had finished eating and was now just staring into the middle distance, apparently lost in thought. She didn’t look like a conniving traitor waiting for a chance to kill us all. She looked… sad. I remembered how excited she’d been upon our entry to Alfheim. What had changed?
“Perhaps you should speak with her,” Mitchell suggested. “It would allow me to better gauge if she can be trusted for the time being.”
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